


Blades of Glory

by Suaine



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Assassin AU, M/M, cloak and dagger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 07:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11595861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suaine/pseuds/Suaine
Summary: Yuri Katsuki is an assassin, maybe the best assassin in the entire region. When he finds himself incapable of killing a mark, he starts to question his career choices.





	Blades of Glory

**Author's Note:**

> This is a reversebang story created for [aph-iceland's wonderful, adorable art.](http://aph-iceland.tumblr.com/post/162915692836/my-pieces-for-the-yoi-reverse-big-bang-0)

  
  


Despite what the Brotherhood in their name implied, their secret society of murderers for hire and assassins was only loosely connected: through a shared sigil and a set of rules that was supposed to protect them from the wrath of a target or, more likely, their relatives. Killing was a simple thing, people did it all the time. The husband who came home to find his wife frolicking in the sheets with a lover found it easy, the robber who saw others only as the worth of whatever was in their pockets as a matter of course.

But there was a finesse to what the Brotherhood of the Silent Knife did, a professionalism that was respected in all lands of the Accords.

The Brotherhood didn't take a contract without a thorough examination and if tampering came to light, the contractor's life was forfeit. Lying to the Brotherhood about why someone needed to die was one of society's cardinal sins. Only very few people ever attempted it and only two people in all of history ever got away with it – their stories were legends of blood and destruction, full-scale wars fought to protect these people from the determination of the Brotherhood.

Yuri Katsuki knew that his contract was more than likely justified, that the girl cowering before him was probably a manipulator and her tears weren't real. And yet, when faced with the reality of her murder as she looked up at him pleadingly, he couldn’t.

He was supposed to be one of the best assassins in this region, one of the best in the world maybe. He’d trained as a soldier before he put down his sword to pick up the dragon-handle daggers of the Brotherhood and he was no stranger to killing, but this seemed wrong. He’d had a bad feeling about this contract from the start, too high profile with no easily accessible client. It had all been done through intermediaries, clerks of the guild registry or private and very discreet agents who had looked and smelled like money.

The girl wept quietly, no longer looking up at him. Yuri shuddered and dropped his hands, his daggers heavy and foreign in his grip. “I’m sorry,” Yuri said under his breath. “Please forgive me.”

Crying out, the girl braced herself for a hit that never came. Yuri had disappeared.

+

Yuri stared at his reflection in the river, distorted and rippling with more than just the movement of water. “I’m a failure. What’s the point of any of this if I can’t actually do the deed?”

There was no one to answer him, but the water gurgled happily in defiance of his sour mood. “Perhaps I should go home, the inn always needs a hand.” He didn’t actually want to be a barkeep or host at the inn his parents owned but what were his alternatives? He could certainly not expect the Brotherhood to keep him on if he couldn’t be an assassin. They had no need for people with a squeamish heart.

Yuri sighed and shouldered his weapons. He moved silently through the underbrush, aiming for the nearest town with little enthusiasm. There was never a shortage of people who needed protection or a lesson in swordplay. He could make enough coin to get through the winter and maybe try his hand at a much simpler contract. Killing was never easy, but in the grand scheme a man who beat his wife or a slaver were much easier to stomach.

The inns this close to home always reminded him of his parents, his sister, their uninformed belief in him. They had no idea what his work actually entailed, and yet they always supported his choices. It tore him apart inside that they could see something in him that was clearly a reflection of someone else. He wasn’t the hero of their old stories, he was just a boy trying to do what he was good at, a work that fulfilled him, odd as that would sound if he were to speak the thought out loud. There was an art to the Brotherhood’s work, it was a calling that could not be ignored.

He got a cheap room, smiling absently at the friendly barmaid. “Thank you,” he said, his attention wandering to the shadows in the rafters, the noise of the jovial people around him. The girl curtsied more deeply than should be possible in a dress this tight. Yuri winced on her behalf. “I didn’t think there would be rooms available still.” He’d forgotten market days and how the world seemed to descend onto tiny havens like this with boisterous noise and shiny trinkets.

The girl blushed, shaking her head. “Oh no, we expected you! A room was to be set aside for you.”

Yuri frowned. “Set aside for me? Who would do such a thing?” And more importantly, who could possibly know he would be coming here when he’d not even known himself?

As he walked up the stairs to his room, he couldn’t help but feel eyes on his back, though he found nothing when he turned around to check. It would be a long, sleepless night with his senses on high alert. Every movement in the shadows would send tingles down his spine.

+

  
The night remained uneventful and Yuri slept fitfully until dawn, when the noise of the early risers began to drag him back into consciousness. He fought the heaviness in his limbs, the burning in his eyes and the hollowness in his heart to rise from his too soft bed and clean himself adequately for a long day on the road. As he surveyed the room, his eyes fell on a sharp, golden envelope with a stark red seal of wax. It looked prohibitively expensive and quite dramatic.

Yuri shivered. He would have sworn on his life that his room was untouched during the night. The enveloped hadn't been there last night and it could not be here now, and yet it was so obviously, blindingly real that to deny it was folly.

Carefully, his senses tuned to every small movement of air or spark of light, he picked his way to the bed and reached for the potential trap. He'd lived a surprisingly safe life for an assassin, nothing like the scars and injuries some of his compatriots had received in their line of work. Some people considered him blessed but Yuri knew it had more to do with him joining the Brotherhood later in life and choosing easy targets that had fewer bodyguards who would die for them. To kill only those who so clearly deserved it was not just a moral choice, but a safe one. No man laid down his life for a tyrant if they had a choice to lay down their arms and step aside.

The envelope was nothing more than paper, though clearly worth more than Yuri's parents earned in a month. It gleamed in the light and felt heavy in the way of thick, soft paper meant only for royalty. This was the kind of letter that could fell kings.

It read, in its entirety:

_You have been chosen. Get ready._

Yuri folded the letter carefully back in its sheath and threw it into the fireplace, watching as low embers lazily curled tiny flames around the edges.

+

The Brotherhood only existed loosely as a society, all the groups sharing a name but little else, and yet there was one thing they all knew, one thing they all believed.

When the Blade called for you, there was no choice but to attend.

Yuri had been part of the assembly once before, a few years after he became the only assassin still working in the Hasetsu region. Back then it had clearly been an afterthought, a formality because all regions had to have at least a seat at the table. He hadn't spoken to anyone except Pidgeon, whose real name was Phichit Chulanont. They had both worked with the same master for a while, an old blade twirler called Ciao Ciao.

This time, Yuri had a feeling the assembly had invited him for more specific reasons. He'd left a contract unfinished and the Brotherhood would have to sit in judgment over that lapse. Yuri's days were numbered and the count had just switched to single digits. Running would be pointless and in any case, he had always known he would come to this at some point, revealed to be a fraud.

The time and place of the meeting were delivered in the same clandestine way that all things were done in the Brotherhood. Yuri tried to catch the messenger on both occasions but failed again, clearly not anywhere near his or her level of skill. It stung a little, this reminder. Yuri almost decided not to go, but the Brotherhood was not known for being merciful and they knew where his parents lived, his sister and his old dog.

Two days travel and a hundred moments of doubt later, Yuri arrived at his destination. He reined in the borrowed horse and looked at the magnificent ruin in front of him. This was the old Ninja castle, a place where the Brotherhood had once ruled. There had been a time when kings had bowed to them.

Pidgeon was already there, Yuri didn't have to see him to know. Sure enough, the boy dropped onto his horse from one of the trees, startling the creature into an uncontrolled jump forward. They both tumbled to the ground, Pidgeon laughing like he had just made the greatest joke.

“Yuri, it's so great to see you!”

Yuri wheezed with the impact. “Uh, yes, yes it is. Great to see you, I mean.”

Pidgeon set with his legs crossed, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “I didn't think you would make it, rumor has it you're retiring.”

Yuri sighed, brushing dirt off his clothes. “No one retires from the Brotherhood.”

Cocking his head, Pidgeon looked confused. “No, I'm sure that they do. Ciao Ciao was one of us for a long time before he became a performer. And I hear Lord Yakov of Moos-Kao was once a favorite of the Blade.”

Yuri frowned. He'd never, well- he'd never actually considered that there might be people who survived this profession. He'd always known he'd die as a Brother.

“No, I didn't know that.”

Pidgeon laughed. “Oh my god, Yuri! Why do you think I keep talking about my hamster breeding farm? I'm not going to be an assassin forever. I have plans!”

Yuri blushed. “I just never thought about it! It's a very dangerous thing we do!”

Pidgeon rushed him and wrapped him in a bear hug. “You're a very strange person, Yuri Katsuki.”

Yeah, Yuri thought, he was a strange person. And probably not for much longer.

+

The meeting itself was as mysterious and dramatic as ever. They all wore long, black, hooded robes and carried candles to an altar-like table in the middle of what was once a grand dining hall. The tapestries had rotted away but the old chandeliers and statues still gave the room an air of dignity. In the moment, all of it had this radiant energy, almost like magic.

It was said that the Blade was immortal. Some believed that he had been there since the beginning, others thought he had died long ago and refused to leave his body behind, that he was a wraith or a ghost. He certainly moved like one.

An ethereal creature that lived in the night and shone as bright as any star.

Yuri had only gotten to see the man in action once and it had been enough to make him want to do this work for the rest of his life. The Blade was an idea. He was beautiful and powerful and everything. Everything Yuri wanted. Everything he wanted to be.

Yuri strained his senses to pick up on any signs. The Blade loved a showy entrance. Yuri had read all of the accounts of his appearances, his work as an assassin and it all came down to exceptional showmanship.

He could feel the tension rise in the room, Pidgeon nudging him in the side, murmurs or uncertainty from all corners. A short, blond boy whispered angrily to a tall, dark-haired one, both of them a little too fresh-faced to be here under normal circumstances. He'd heard of the youngster before, a child of the North, too damn good at killing, but lacking the artistry that made them special. He was a brute, successful and highly sought-after.

“I didn't think you'd come,” a voice whispered from right behind his ear. Yuri tensed, fighting his urge to yelp and jump away. The Blade was standing right behind him, so close that Yuri could feel the heat of his body. Oh, he was burning.

A hand rested lightly on Yuri's hip, aborting Yuri's attempt to turn around. The Blade had a voice made of liquid silver. “Don't turn around. They can't see me. Not yet.”

Yuri nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Good. I knew you'd be good for me.” The voice dropped even lower, setting Yuri's blood aflame. The hand curled closer to his stomach. Yuri was being embraced, without anyone else seeing what was going on. “After this, I want you to stay here until they have all left. We have business and I think you know that.”

Yuri nodded again, tensing every muscle against the cold dread that rushed over him.

The Blade laughed. “Not like that, little piggy. Just wait.”

Then he was gone and the Blade appeared in front of his audience. He laughed. “Glad you could all make it. Let's chat.”

+

The Blade was retiring.

Yuri blinked. Everyone stood with their mouths open, shocked.

The Blade was a title. He wasn't a man at all, just the chosen leader of the Brotherhood.

It was such a well-kept secret that even hearing it now, from the Blade's own lips, Yuri could not believe it. From Pidgeon's tense silence, he figured his friend couldn't either.

The Blade laughed. “Okay, now remember, you will take this secret to your grave, or I will make sure that everyone who heard it from you will die the most horrible way you can imagine.”

“That's such bullshit,” the blond boy yelled. He was vibrating with anger. Yuri could relate – this was enormous and the Blade was being nonchalant about it. Like he didn't even care. Like none of this mattered to him and his stupid black mask.

“Now, now,” the Blade said, suddenly sharper, intense like the summer sun. He grabbed the boy's face and leaned close. They could all hear the hissed whisper. “Let's all be civil here.”

The boy huffed, but relented. He turned his eyes away and nodded tightly, a dog who'd been brought to heel. Yuri felt a stab of pity for the boy. He knew a thing or two about public humiliation and this had been complete annihilation. No one else dared to speak up.

The Blade returned to his perch at the table. “Obviously, there needs to be a Blade. There always needs to be someone who can make the difficult decisions. That's why you're all here. You are the best of the best, you are young and full of fire. I've picked you because I think any single one of you can be the new Blade.”

Yuri yelped. He couldn't. What.

“Do you have something to say?” The Blade asked him, voice low and full of humor. He'd handled the blond boy like a threat, he was treating Yuri like a favored pet.

Yuri swallowed. “You can't be serious. I could never be the Blade.”

“Are you questioning my judgment?”

There was something about the way he said judgment that made Yuri falter. Whatever was coming his way, he deserved it. And if he was meant to try and fail an impossible task, that was still better than being stripped of his rank publicly and executed like a dog.

“No,” Yuri said, “of course not.”

+

Yuri waited at the table as everyone else slowly left the hall. He traced the wooden scroll work and remembered the hand on his hip, the heat of a body so close to his own. What was happening to him? He'd expected swift justice, not this mess of confusing signals.

They all had been given the same task. Lord Victor was one of society's most well-known and beloved aristocrats, a bachelor of unimaginable wealth and influence. He had enemies – of course,

no one could become a Lord of his station and not have enemies – but none of them were rich or powerful enough to do anything to him. He was untouchable. It was their task to take him out and Yuri couldn't imagine how that was possibly accomplished. The Brotherhood didn't take suicide missions, contracts on targets that had done nothing except get lucky.

“This is wrong,” Yuri said to the still, ancient air.

The Blade touched his cheek. Heroically, Yuri did not jump three feet in the air and scream. “Here you are, doubting my decisions again. Can't you trust that I perhaps know more about this than you do?”

Yuri shivered violently. “I do trust you, of course I do.”

The Blade came closer, towering above him. His fingers had cupped Yuri's head. Illogically, Yuri felt heat pool in his belly, eyes drawn to the full lips so close to him. “Oh,” the Blade said, “do you really?”

Yuri nodded, unable to speak.

“Then trust me about this. Lord Victor is not a good man. He has blood on his hands. He is personally responsible for the murder of thousands, and he needs to pay for that. Whoever can manage to kill him will become the new Blade and Yuri, trust me on this: I believe it will be you.”

Yuri shook his head. “I can't. I'm not good enough.” He swallowed. Perhaps words of his failure hadn't reached the Blade yet. Perhaps this was all just a matter of bad timing. “I failed a mission!”

The Blade stepped back. This was the moment. Yuri was going to die.

Except, nothing happened, and then the Blade stepped aside with a flourish. Where he'd stood, a girl appeared, looking sheepish. “Hey,” she said, waving at Yuri. It was the girl he'd been supposed to kill. She was dressed in the usual way of assassins.

Yuri stared at her, unable to quite comprehend what was happening.

Then the Blade was behind him again. “She was supposed to test you, and in a way she did.”

“I failed the test.”

The Blade sighed. “There is more than one way to solve a problem. The Blade needs to know when the lay down their arms as well. It's why I've decided to leave and why I think you will be the best choice.”

There was silence for a long moment until the girl spoke up. “Can I go now? I have to practice lifts with Sara in ten minutes.”

+

The castle that Victor called his home – one of the many places he owned, but apparently his favorite to actually live in – was massive, sprawling and still somehow fragile. It had that typical marbled, clean-cut appearance of a city building transplanted into the country-side and it was so powerful that the landscape bowed to it. The manicured lawn gleamed bright green in the sun and water fountains sparkled in tasteful intervals. Some engineer probably spent the better part of a month to make it seem effortless.

Yuri felt completely outmatched. Not just that a dozen other assassins were trying for the same target, the target itself was clearly someone so well protected as to be nearly immortal.

Or at least, Victor probably felt immortal. Why else would he invite to a masked ball and then not even check the identities of the guests? The courtyard was packed with masked people, all of them in elaborate gowns or coats that could hide a multitude of weaponry and other dangerous things.

Much to the amusement of his brothers, the Blade had picked out a costume for Yuri that made him look like an adorable piglet. The blond boy, who was incidentally also called Yuri, but went by the name of Soldier, was dressed as the grim reaper, but stylishly so. Phichit was not a pidgeon as Yuri would have expected, but a large, golden-brown hamster.

Soldier kept making rude gestures at Yuri across the room, some of them clearly threats to disembowel Yuri if he got in his way. Pidgeon drank a lot of the sparkling wine. Not all of the Brothers were in costume, but Yuri had no doubt that all of them were here. It was a perfect chance to get at Victor. There was no safety in a crowd if a good assassin was on your trail.

A great murmur went through the crowd as Victor finally appeared, dressed in perfectly-tailored golden clothes that made him shine like the sun. He wore a crown of red roses and a disarming smile. Yuri's heart beat faster. This man didn't look like a killer, he looked like a god. Yuri had no idea how to kill a god.

As the evening wore into night, Victor danced with hundreds of guests, all of them charmed and flustered once they were done. Yuri had heard tales of fairies who could do this to men and women alike, but as far as he knew those were only stories. Victor was human and yet, he clearly something else. How could this be the murderer the Blade had spoken of? Was there some dark secret inside this huge castle? Could Yuri fulfill this contract before he knew all of it?

Victor appeared in front of him. Yuri nearly dropped his wine. “May I have this dance, my dear?”

The familiarity caught Yuri off-guard and he let his hand be taken, pulled into a whirling mass of people. Victor smelled as good as he looked, a flowery scent that made Yuri's head spin. There was a small chance that he had also drunk far too much of the wine. He began to suspect that Pidgeon had not picked all those glasses for himself.

“I have not seen you here before,” Victor said, his voice somehow warm and familiar. Yuri had to fight the urge to lean closer.

“I do not make a habit of attending these balls, Sire. I'm a working man.”

Victor spun him around and on return pulled Yuri so close that he could feel him from chest to knee. Victor was certainly quite a vigorous man. “May I learn of your profession then? I am always curious about the people that come to my door. Especially if they are as beautiful as you.”

Yuri coughed, nearly choking on his next words. “I am dressed as a boar, my Lord. How could you say any of this if you have not seen my face?”

Victor laughed. “I do not need to see your entire face to know your body creates music with every breath, to see that radiant light coming from your lovely mouth when you smile.”

Flushed and breathless, Yuri decided to simply go with whatever this mad god was throwing at him. The dance was a dream, a magical moment far removed from reality, and Yuri was delirious with the taste of it. He could find a way to kill a god tomorrow.

+

Victor did not just invite random and myriad people to balls, he had opened his house for guests to stay as long as they wished. If a man needed work, one could simply apply to be a servant or house keeper, a cook or someone to take care of the horses. Victor maintained a huge stable and an even larger staff. He did not know all their names, but he was exceptionally friendly and kind in the aloft way that comes with being so high above everyone else in station.

There had been several attempts at his life and Yuri had no idea if it was intentional, but because everyone wanted the kill for himself, the brothers were thwarting each other at every turn. The Blade had essentially set them up to compete and no one was willing to let others have their prey. Soldier was especially good at laying claim to this murder, though he had yet to try it himself.

Yuri was using his time to investigate. He interviewed staff, overheard conversations, and used his skill in stealth to rifle through locked rooms at night, but all he found was tons of expensive nick-nacks and ridiculous devotion among the workers. The longer someone had been at the castle the more they would die for Lord Victor. It was almost enough to make a boy believe in real fairy magic.

When Victor was with him, and Yuri had to admit that it seemed like a rather non-proportionate amount, he was incredibly charming and quite forward. Yuri blushed and bumbled his way through these conversations, letting Victor invite him to picnics and leisurely rides around the forest, during which Yuri managed to save Victor from no less than thirty attacks. He should be using the time alone to make his own attempt, but he hadn't yet found out any reason why Victor needed to die.

Some of the attempts Victor survived by sheer luck.

“Oh, look at this amazing flower,” Victor would say, and bend to pick it only for a poison arrow to whoosh harmlessly over his head.

Or he would get distracted by something shiny and turn his horse from a falling trap.

Victor was blessed and over the days and even weeks that they all spent at the castle, Yuri began to wonder if he truly was some kind of fairy.

+

Yuri spent quite a lot of time with Phichit, who had tried to kill Victor once and now seemed to enjoy the gardens. “You should see his stable. Those horses are glorious.”

Yuri nodded. Victor had shown him the stables once and held his hand, gently so as not to spook him. It had made Yuri blush to his toes and redoubled his efforts to find the skeletons in Victor's basement. Unfortunately, he now knew the entire castle inside and out and had yet to find anything incriminating.

“His everything is glorious,” Yuri mumbled under his breath. He didn't even want to become the Blade and this seemed more and more like a personal vendetta. “I don't understand how we could ever accept his contract. He's a saint.”

Phichit laughed. “Maybe he wasn't always? Or maybe the Blade is jealous of his good looks and fortune.”

Yuri couldn't help but wonder. He'd always believed in the justice of their cause, but the Blade was a mere mortal. It would be easy to corrupt a man and hide behind the title. “I don't know what to do! What if he's innocent?”

“You seem to be spending a lot of time with him, why don't you just ask?”

+

Asking a man why the world's number one assassin wanted him dead without revealing that he was one of the people tasked with his murder was not as hard as it should be, all things considered. Victor was endlessly curious and encouraged questions of all sorts. Yuri already knew about his childhood best friend, his unbelievable education, and his adventures in all the different countries of the Accords.

To be honest, Victor probably just loved talking about his own brilliance, and who could fault him? He was magnificent.

Yuri found Victor in the east parlor, picking at a rose like those besotted girls did in the stories. His attention was fully on his task and there was no one else anywhere near. Yuri felt the weight of his daggers on his skin. Now would be the time. He could be at Victor's throat in an instant.

Instead, he cleared his own throat loudly and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. “Victor, there is something we need to talk about.”

Victor turned his blinding smile on Yuri and the world shifted on its axis. “Of course, what is it?”

Yuri tightened his fists and dropped his gaze. He could not look at Victor for this. “I need to know why the Brotherhood wants you dead. Why they want me to kill you.”

For a moment, there was silence. Yuri glanced up and he could see the hurt in Victor's face. It broke his heart and he could barely stand to be in the same room right now. He didn't want to be this person anymore, couldn't be if Victor was the price. How had this even happened? If anyone had asked him a few weeks ago, Yuri would have said that his heart belonged to the Brotherhood, and if he got really drunk, he would say it beat for the Blade.

Today, his heart seized at the thought of giving the Blade what he wanted. “I was told you have blood on your hands,” Yuri said, unable to fight the urge to defend himself. “I was told you had murdered thousands, that you were a terrible person. I didn't know you then.”

Victor sighed and closed his eyes. “I thought we would have a little more time.”

Yuri frowned. “I don't understand.”

Victor turned and opened the door. “Follow me.”

For all that they had grown close, Yuri had never been to Victor's bedchambers – the rooms had always been protected by Victor's close friend and guard captain, Chris, so infiltration was right out, and Yuri had never been invited. The ante room looked surprisingly comfortable and less luxurious than the rest of the castle.

“Why are we here, Victor?”

Victor was standing at one of the chests under a large, silver mirror. Everything in the room was silver. And black. “Close your eyes. Trust me.”

Yuri closed his eyes.

There was a rustling sound and suddenly Victor was there, so very, very close. “I thought you'd take a little bit longer, or that I would get bored with the rest of them.”

The kiss came as a surprise for Yuri. It was the touch of a butterfly wing, soft and fragile.

Yuri opened his eyes. “Victor?”

In front of him stood the Blade.

+

“For years I existed without truly living. I had no love in my life. You gave it back to me and I don't know how to thank you for that.”

It was Victor and it was the Blade. Yuri's world was shattered.

“I used to love the work and I was good at it. So very, very good. But lately I couldn't find that spark anymore, the burning fire of justice. At first I thought that you could be my successor and you easily could be.”

Yuri couldn't breathe.

“But I really wish you wouldn't. I really wish you would stay here with me. Retire with me.”

Black and silver blurred the edges of Yuri's vision. He could hear his blood pound in his ears.

+

Before he could pass out, Yuri was distracted by a commotion at the door, Chris and Soldier spilling into the room with Pidgeon not far behind them.

“I can't believe this,” Soldier yelled, more angry than ever. “I can't damn well believe this. You are such a jerk, Lord Asshole.”

Yuri started to laugh.

+

Lord Victor became the third story of a man who was not killed by the Brotherhood. Yuri became the first assassin to fall in love with his victim and get a happy ending.

And the Blade lived on, and on. For a while more angry than he had ever been, but so very good at what he did.


End file.
